


blue skies fade to grey

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Stiles Stilinski Has a Bad Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: It’s only lunch time on a Monday, but Stiles feels like it’s Friday afternoon of a very very long week. He’s aching in several places, his eyes are having trouble focusing, and he’s taking deep breaths just so he doesn’t snap at the way the door creaks when he opens it.





	blue skies fade to grey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tryslora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/gifts), [aredblush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aredblush/gifts).



> Title from the Daniel Powter song [Bad Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gH476CxJxfg) (which I've listened to on repeat while writing this)
> 
> Also, also, Because Nas is an absolute star, there be [ART!!!](http://aredblush.tumblr.com/post/166225131257/emergency-monday-fort-froggydarren-and-i-agreed)

He’s gritting his teeth by the time he slides the key in the lock, his shoulders hurting from the way they were hunched all morning.

It’s only lunch time on a Monday, but Stiles feels like it’s Friday afternoon of a very  _ very _ long week. He’s aching in several places, his eyes are having trouble focusing, and he’s taking deep breaths just so he doesn’t snap at the way the door creaks when he opens it. 

The morning was hell — he had the early shift, which was already a bad start to his week, but his dad doesn’t play favourites, not even with his own son — and he’s seriously considering not going back to the station after the allocated hour he gets for lunch. 

First it was the call he got to a dispute over a parking space that had him mediate between an obstinate prick who refused to listen, insisting that he had a right to the spot even though the other driver was there first. Stiles did check the CCTV, showed it to the guy, and still had to weather a barrage of entitled  _ loud _ comments about it being  _ his _ spot, no matter how late he arrived. 

Then he was buried in paperwork after the disgruntled driver kicked — and blissfully missed — at the cruiser. Still, Stiles ended up booking him for attempted property damage, and the forms started piling up on his desk. While he was trying to focus, he was surrounded by bickering between some of his colleagues over shifts and favours given and not returned, over hours worked and, the straw that broke the camel’s back, over a donut that went missing from someone’s table. 

When it was time to clock out for his break, he almost ran out of the door, only barely noticing the sympathetic look that Parrish gave him. 

It’s quiet in the apartment when he walks in, and he immediately shrugs his jacket off and throws it on the hooks in the hallway. His plan is to slump into the couch cushions and not move for the remainder of the hour, possibly even foregoing food. He just wants to shut everything off for a while, breathe and bury his nose into the pillows on the couch, getting some relief from the morning’s stress. 

There’s a surprise waiting for him when he gets to the living room though. 

Instead of the couch, all he can see is a tent made out of one of the big blankets that is usually stashed away in the cupboard. It’s held up by chairs and a string that’s tethered to the ceiling, and it’s covering the entirety of the small couch. When he walks closer, he can see the opening, and spots small flashes of light in the darkness within. 

He takes off his utility belt and kicks off his shoes, then gently pushes the blanket aside even more, glancing inside. 

Derek is curled up on one side of the couch, face pressed against his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. 

“Hey,” Stiles says quietly, sliding inside the blanket fort. 

“Hey,” Derek mumbled, not lifting his head at first.

“Bad day?” Stiles asks, folding himself onto the floor beside Derek. 

Almost immediately, there are fingers carding through his hair and he slumps against the couch, sighing with relief. 

“Yeah. You?” Derek speaks quietly, and Stiles can hear the rustling of his movements. 

“The worst,” he says, sighing again when Derek’s legs wrap around him, and his head comes to rest on top of Stiles’s. “We gonna stay here?”

“Mhm,” Derek hums, and Stiles lifts his hands to link their fingers together. “Never coming out again.”

“‘Kay,” Stiles says, tension leaving his body with every breath. 

He looks up at the top of the fort, then tilts his head to look at Derek’s face. 

“Where’d you find the star lights?” 

“Bought them on the way home,” Derek says, his cheeks darkening in the faint light. “Felt like I’m gonna need them.”

“They’re perfect,” Stiles tells him with a smile. 

Derek doesn’t reply, just bends his head down and brushes his lips against Stiles’s. 

“You’re perfect. This is perfect,” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s lips. Then he slumps further into Derek’s arms, and starts letting the stress out in deep breaths, feeling Derek’s own match up to them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
